Chapter 4 The Price of Silence

The words "Madame Moreau" echoed in Xochi's head like a war drum. The weight of the title settled on her shoulders, and for a moment, everything else blurred-the cold dining room, the sterile walls, the distant hum of the mansion's unseen engines. She wasn't just a guest here anymore. She wasn't even a person, really. She was property, a contract, a name signed on a piece of paper.

Chris Moreau's eyes bored into hers, the silence stretching out longer than it should have. She could feel his presence as if it was a physical force, pressing against her chest, forcing her to acknowledge that this wasn't just a marriage-it was a takeover.

The man who had entered behind him, the one with the scar running down his cheek, shifted on his feet. His posture was stiff, like someone waiting for permission to speak, or perhaps, more likely, like someone whose words could cost him dearly. He wasn't a servant-his aura was different, hardened, like a bodyguard or a soldier.

Xochi opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It felt as if the room had grown even colder, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Chris finally broke the silence, his voice cutting through it like a blade. "This is Henri," he said, nodding toward the man with the scar. "He's... a trusted associate. He'll be overseeing certain matters for me. He's also the one who'll ensure you stay in line."

Henri's cold gaze flickered to Xochi before returning to Chris, waiting for some unspoken cue.

Xochi felt her pulse quicken. She wasn't sure if it was the sudden shift in power, the weight of Chris's cold indifference, or the quiet threat emanating from Henri that made her feel like a trapped animal. Whatever it was, it was suffocating.

"Stay in line?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. She hadn't expected it to feel this... wrong. She hadn't expected to feel so small.

Chris didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took another bite of his food, his eyes never leaving hers as he chewed slowly. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured, almost too calm.

"You're in my world now, Xochi. My rules. It's simple: you follow them, and you stay out of trouble." He paused, the flicker of amusement in his eyes almost imperceptible. "Rebellious behavior isn't something I tolerate. And Henri here will ensure that you don't forget that."

Xochi felt her stomach drop. She could almost hear the unspoken threat in his words, the promise that if she didn't comply, there would be consequences. She didn't need to ask what those consequences might be. She had already seen enough of the cold indifference in Chris's gaze to understand that when he spoke, he expected obedience.

Henri stepped forward then, his presence looming like a shadow over her. "Your behavior will be monitored closely, Madame Moreau," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "We don't tolerate mistakes."

Xochi swallowed hard. The air seemed to grow heavier with each word. She nodded, the motion stiff, as if her body no longer obeyed her instincts but instead followed a script she didn't understand.

Chris gave a brief nod, acknowledging Henri's words. "Good," he said, his voice colder now. "Now, Henri, if you'll excuse us."

Henri nodded and stepped back, disappearing into the shadows of the room without another word. Xochi, still rooted to the spot, could feel the weight of the silence press down on her once more. Chris was watching her again, his gaze sharp, his eyes calculating. He wasn't just observing her; he was studying her, trying to figure her out. But Xochi wasn't sure if she wanted to be understood by him.

"I don't belong here," she said suddenly, her voice trembling with frustration.

Chris's lips quirked upward slightly. "You keep saying that," he remarked, setting his fork down with intentional slowness. "But it's irrelevant. You are here. And now you'll learn that there's no way out."

Her chest tightened. He was right. She was here. Trapped in this gilded cage, with no way out but obedience, and obedience meant giving up any semblance of control. Giving up who she was.

Xochi stood up abruptly, not caring if she startled him. "You can't control me," she said, a sharp edge to her voice, despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her outburst. "Oh, but I already am."

The words cut through the air, chilling her to the bone. She felt small again, helpless, her defiance slipping away like sand through her fingers.

He stood then, slowly, as if nothing she did could shake him. "I don't expect you to understand this yet. But in time, you will. We all have our roles to play in this world, Xochi. And yours... well, yours is to stay silent. Stay pretty. Stay out of my way."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream, wanted to throw something, anything at him. But she didn't. She couldn't.

Instead, she simply nodded, her throat tight, the sting of unshed tears burning behind her eyes. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"I'll be silent," she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "But you're wrong about one thing."

Chris paused, as if waiting for her to continue.

"I'll never stay out of your way," she added, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

For a moment, there was a flicker in his eyes. Not surprise, exactly, but something else-something darker. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Xochi stood there for a long moment, her body rigid, her mind spinning. This house-this prison-wasn't just a physical place. It was a mental and emotional trap, and every day she spent here, she felt herself being pulled deeper into its grip.

When she finally moved, she didn't know where to go. But she had to go somewhere. She couldn't stay here, in this room, surrounded by the ghosts of promises she never made.

She pushed open the door to her bedroom, the cold air hitting her like a slap. Her eyes immediately fell on the envelope she had hidden in her pocket earlier, the words still burned into her mind.

You don't belong here.

She sank down onto the bed, her hands trembling as she pulled the note back out. She stared at the message again, trying to make sense of it. Could it be a warning? A threat? Or was it just another game, another piece of the twisted puzzle Chris had forced her into?

She didn't know.

But one thing was clear: she couldn't trust anyone in this house. Least of all him.

The sound of a faint knock echoed from the hallway, snapping Xochi from her thoughts. She barely had time to react before the door creaked open, revealing the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway.

A soft voice floated in. "Madame Moreau, there's someone here to see you."